A SOLO CUP, SOME MOONLIGHT and THOU - Pt. 5 - Finale

We left off with the lot of us misspent youths being shuttled,  via multiple squad cars,  from our golf course keg party down to the police station…

And ya know something - I must be slipping a little to not have remembered until just now that Stashley probably got his nickname due to his frigging gigantic moustache!  For cryin' out loud!  Yes of course - that large, black, quivering  caterpillar on his upper lip.    It HAD to have been at least a factor, in addition to and aside from his every-present stash of cigs and weed.  Right?  I just felt the need to mention this…

But anyhow, we pull up at the 102nd Precinct and file in to the stationhouse in cuffed pairs.  There are just so many of us marched into this one dank room.  Not many chairs, we're all standing around.   I remember the walls were painted a sickly teal, just really a hideous shade.  As we are ushered in, my mescaline-mouth spouts:  "IT'S PEPTO-BISMOL GREEN IN HERE!"    Officer Hamburger shoots me a warning look, shakes his head.   I quickly go: "SORRY."    Sorry?  Jeez, I sound like a damn idiot.  My voice sounds so fucking loud to me, like outlandishly loud, and I start to really struggle not to bust out laughing.   That's all I need. 

Hamburger: "What now, Millie?  YOU NEED SOMETHING?"

I stare at him: "Huh?"  And then it takes me a second to realize that I actually said that statement out loud: "That's all I need."  I thought I had just said it in my head.  So of course, now I DO start to laugh.  I am a tripping mess here down at Cop Central, god help me.

So in an attempt to make myself appear somewhat coherent, I say:  "I - umm - I…I need to take a whiz!" 

Hamburger's attention is diverted, as Stash seems ready to collapse.   He's still muttering to himself about lithium and doobies - which incidentally and amazingly, given all the fuss he's kicking up about it, the cops never even frisk him for!  

In fact, they don't frisk any of us.   Here I am, prepared for god-knows-what-all from this legendary Hamburger cop especially, but as soon as we get to the stationhouse things get real anticlimactic in a hurry.    They un-cuffed us pretty much right away.   I immediately put some distance between myself and my date, Stashley, crossing over to the other side of the room.

Me: "Sayonara, Stash.   Parting is such sweet sorrow."   Buzzing from the mescaline, I am feeling pretty optimistic about being un-cuffed.   There's one woman cop here, and right after I get freed from Stash, she wordlessly guides me by my elbow  and we go into a restroom together, where she stands across the room from my stall and states flatly: "LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN, HONEY."   

It turns out I don't even have to pee.  I pretend to be peeing, but of course there's no sound.  She's just looking at me weirdly as I stand up and zip my jeans.  She doesn't say anything, tho'.  I  wash my hands and then we head back to the big party room. 

First thing I see when we go back in is Jeanette, the other captured girl, holding a telephone receiver to her ear.  It's not a wall phone, but a desk phone.  She looks exasperated, is looking up at Hamburger, saying: "What can I tell you?  There's nobody home.  They must have gone out."

I look at over at my friend John questioningly: "What's going on?" 

John: "Hamburger's making us call our parents."

Me: "WHAT?  WHAT DO YOU MEAN MAKING US CALL OUR PARENTS?"

Hamburger: "You heard 'im.  Every one of you is gonna call your parents.   If they don't come here and collect ya, yer locked up for the night."

Me: "JESUS CHRIST!  BUT MY PARENTS ARE IN FLORIDA!"  (A lie)

Hamburger: "Then you can call 'em COLLECT."

Me: "WAIT!  They're in HUNGARY!"  Hungary?  

I decide to shut up and wait my turn.   Can't fight City Hall.  I'm dead meat, my mother is gonna have a fit.  O, well.   Won't be the first time and I can pretty much vouch it ain't gonna be the last.

One of the younger cops says to Stashley:  "You like to run with a fast crowd, huh Grampa?"

And I just can't help blurting out: "Yeah, you gonna make Stashley call HIS mother, too?"

The whole room erupts in hysterics:  Us kids, all the cops, Officer Hamburger, even Stashley.   It's a stellar moment of unrivaled levity, indeed it is…

But it doesn't get me off the hook.   I still have to phone The Folks.

Mom answers, groggy: "Hello?" 

Me: "Hi, Ma…I'm at the police station."

Mom: "WHAT?  WHO IS THIS?"  (Again, I am her only daughter.  I still get this all the time.)

Me: "It's Lynn, Ma.  I'm at the police station with Jeanette."

Mom: "Jeanette who?   You're supposed to be sleeping over at Camille's house! WHY ARE YOU AT THE POLICE STATION?"

Me: "We were at a party and the police came..."

Mom: "WHAT?  WHAT?  YOUR FATHER IS GOING TO BE SO UPSET….WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO TELL HIM…WHAT DID YOU DO….OH MY GOD, LYNN, OH MY GOD - ALWAYS  SOMETHING  WITH YOU…ALWAYS  SOMETHING…."

I actually end up handing the phone to one of the cops: "Officer, can you do me a favor and talk to my mother?   She listens to men better than she listens to me."

Absolutely insane.   At any rate,  the cop does make some headway with Ma, and he smooths her over pretty nicely. 

Ended up that a bunch of us who tried calling home got either a busy signal or a parentally absentee household.  These cops actually had no intention of locking us up overnight.  After the last phone call is made, they just turn us all loose on the street and we trek back to our neck of the woods together,  one huge pack of Queens vagabonds. 

About two-thirds of the way home, just as we get to Woodhaven Blvd. and Jamaica Avenue, two cop cars pull up, sirens blaring, their megaphones bellowing at us to FREEZE.

We explain to them that we've just been released from the precinct on our own recognizances. 

Copper: "Yooz the golf course kids?"

Me: "Yeah, that's us.  The  Golf  Course  Kids."

They tell us to get going then -  to "get our asses off the streets."

Gee, and here that's all we was ever tryin' to do in the first place. 

Officer.

                                                * * * * * *

A SOLO CUP, SOME MOONLIGHT and THOU - Pt. 4

WE'RE IN THE JAILHOUSE NOW…

We get packed into the back of a squad car, me and Stash and the other couple, Jeanette and Richie.   

Mr. Nasty-Ass Copper and his Rookie Bitch get situated up front.

I mutter to no one in particular:  "So I guess this is the prom limo?"

This makes everyone snicker, including the cops.  But then Nasty-Ass of course has to interject:

"Hey, so what does it take to shut you up, Millie?   What do we gotta stick in your mouth?"

Yuck.  We all get quiet in the back.  Copper looks over at the rookie next to him, tries to engage him.   Rookie snorts nervously - not quite a laugh.  I actually feel bad for the rookie right now.   

After a minute or two of silence,  Cute Richie mutters: "Just our luck, we get fucking Hamburger." This makes my ears perk up.   I've heard of this cop before:   Fucking HAMBURGER - he's Park Folklore.   Known for his unreasonable and sadistic  tendencies.    Ah-HA!   Now it all made sense.   This was him.    Hamburger.    A true scum-bag.   Yes, indeed this was Him.

I can't say I was thrilled to know that I was now an official Hamburger Victim, but somehow I still felt weirdly honored to have suddenly, unwittingly earned this badge.  Whatever happened now was sand in the wind.  But whether or not I survived, I had - at the very least - endured for a bit of time.

Stashley starts in:  "I have 2 doobies on me and my lithium… "

Me (hissing): "You know what you gotta do, Stash?  You gotta shut the fuck up."

Stash: "…I'm not throwing them away, I tell you that…this shit is like…and I can't go home without at least the lithium…and I don't even have a 'scrip…if I need…and…fuck this shit.  I'm just gonna throw the joints on the floor…I'm gonna toss the doobies now…"

Me: "You better shut the fuck up Stanley ('STANLEY'!!!  I guess things are getting serious…) .  This fucking cop is totally nuts.  You gotta stop it NOW.   Just SHUT UP."

And while he's still parking our squad car,  Hamburger turns around in his seat and grins at us, goes: "Stupid ass punks."

TO BE CONTINUED….

* * * * * * *

A SOLO CUP, SOME MOONLIGHT and THOU - Pt. 3

ROUND-UP  AT  THE  KEGGER  CORRAL~!!!

I tell you, I sensed a pattern long ago.  And within that pattern is a distinct run of bad luck whenever I get around a cop.   According to what they told us in grammar school: "Remember kids - The Policeman is Your Friend!"   But for whatever reason, and speaking purely from my own experiences, C-O-P may as well be spelt T-R-O-U-B-L-E.

So, little recap:  THE MAN (a/k/a: Storm Troopers) have raided the golf course and cuffed us together in pairs, and Stashley - our resident 40-something-year-old, self-proclaimed Bi-Polar, Paranoid Schizophrenic, is my assigned cuff-partner. 

* * * * * *

Me: "Oh, COME ON.   Why do I get cuffed to HIM?"

My copper answers, all friendly-like:  "What?  We saved him just for you, Marathon Millie."

Me: "Hey, that's clever.  I like that."

Cop:  "Oh yeah?  Who ast you?  Just shut your mouth."  Hmmm.   Sweet  guy.

Turns out there's only two of us females being busted out of the whole gang, me and one of the older chicks.  I look over at her, ridiculously envious that she's cuffed to one of the cute, (not to mention sane) guys.  All the rest of the girls have managed to avoid this debacle.   I'll say one thing - that was some mammoth (and timely) group urination mosey! 

THE MEN commence herding procedures to get us all back toward the hole in the fence, where the cop jalopies await.   

Meanwhile, the boom-box treats us all to some WHO.   ("I don't mind…Other guys dancin' with mah guh-uh-uh-urll…")   O, the irony….

Cop to one of the rookies: "AND TURN THAT GODDDAMN THING OFF…"

I swing my head over to the radio and notice my sandals nearby… "Wait!  Wait!  At least lemme get my sandals!"

Cop: "Jeez…What?  Where are they?"

Me: "Right there by the radio….WAIT!  So is my guitar!" 

"You’re a real problem child, aren't ya Millie?"  The copper smirks, kicks my Doctor Scholl Sandals over to me.  (I guess I should be grateful…)

I struggle to slip my sandals on, all the while tugging against Stashley who is quick becoming a quivering, ineffectual lump of abject terror. 

Me:  "Wait a minute, please…just wait a sec… I can't leave my guitar here, man!"

Cop: "No?  Yeah,  you can."

I panic.   The thing is like my kid.  I commence to bellowing over to the pee-grove area:

Me: "HEY, ANNIE!   LYNETTE!   ONE OF YA!  PLEASE TAKE CARE OF MY GUITAR!"

Cop (all excited): "Ahhhh!  What's this?  We got some more like you over there in the bushes, Millie?"

Oh, shit.  Me: "NO!  NO!  There's NOBODY OVER THERE!" 

For some reason he doesn't believe me.  He signals over to the same rookie, who along with a second MAN commence to hoof it over to the pee-grove with their flashlights.   I hold my breath, watching the beams and the spooky shadows in the trees, silently begging for forgiveness from the other girls who - thankfully - the cops don't find.  They have evacuated these bushes for greener, more distant pastures.   Smart move.   They'll give me cheerful hell for nearly busting them later, but they're good gals and they do end up taking care of my guitar until I am released from prison.  Which… as I was saying…

Stashley starts blowing a gasket almost immediately after we're cuffed together.   First of all, he's not very coordinated to begin with and this handcuff thing has him thrown for a real loop.  Plus, my skin is crawling just being his cuff-mate, (shudder)  so I'm trying my best not to make any actual CONTACT with him as we negotiate the slippery golf course hills as an aberrant and discombobulated two-headed creature.   

Stash (Under his breath but gradually increasing in volume): "Shit… shit… shit… shit… shit… shit … shit…"  Each shit gets crazier-sounding and there's spittle coming out the corners of his mouth.

Me: "Stash, dude - you gotta try to hold it together, for god's sake. "

Stash: "THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING…HOLY MOTHER OF…FUCKING HELL….THIS CAN'T BE…YAAAAAGGGGHHHHHH……!"

Me: "Dammit, Stash - WATCH OUT!  FUCK!"

Stashley slips, stumbles, almost regains his footing but then - whoaaaa - forget it, he's goin' DOWN…tumbling down a slippery slope.    And who's cuffed to him again?

I absolutely refuse to tumble as one with this guy.   Against all odds, I never go down - instead galloping NEXT to the floundering Stashley, keeping up in convulsively synchronistic tandem with the progress of his collapse, wrenching my cuffed wrist and shoulder socket horribly.  But as GOD IS MY WITNESS - I AM NOT GOIN' DOWN LIKE THAT, MAN.   Dignity at all costs, or whatever is left of it!

Stash winds up in a sorry heap at the bottom of a muddy drop, and I end up down on one knee beside him. 

Me: "Get up, man.  You are breaking my fucking arm, Stashley."

I am reminded of a terrible circus act I once witnessed:   A young woman trying to cajole a tired, defeated bear into getting up into a standing position.  The bear wants no part of it, but ultimately lumbers dejectedly to his hind legs.

Somehow we make it thru the hole in the golf course fence and we are all piled into squad cars. 

And then, lights flashing and sirens blaring,  with full MAN-style fanfare and all the trimmings - it's on to the 102nd Precinct over in Richmond Hill with the whole motley crew of us…

TO BE CONTINUED…

* * * * * *

A SOLO CUP, SOME MOONLIGHT and THOU - Pt. 2

GOLF  COURSE  KEG  PARTY!

It's the middle of the summer and a perfect night for such festivities.  Congregation kicks off a little before sundown.  Spirits are high and merriment abounds.  On this particular night, me and a few of my park-gal-posse have procured some purple mescaline ahead of time up at The Dome, Forest Park's own on-premise recreational drug emporium.

Note:  This was the 70's.  As of this writing, The Dome is no longer rife with drug dealers.  The up-and-coming generation now refers to the location primarily as 'The Band Shell'.  But to the seasoned park regulars from the old days, it is - and shall remain always - The Dome.

Drugs ingested, we truck on downhill from The Dome, along the golf course fence opposite the Interboro (now the Jackie Robinson) Parkway.  We don't need to look for the rest of our crowd (or a hole in the fence) because we can see them clearly in the near distance and hear their laughter.  Some are holding the fence open at it's base and the rest are push-rolling THE KEG thru.  Turns out they did indeed require the wire cutters, so by the time we catch up it's smooth sailing and we breeze on thru the opening into the course:  The Land Of Oz with it's lush rolling hills of endless, fragrant, fresh-mown green.  There was a sun shower earlier today and everything is a little slippery.  Nice-slippery.  I take a deep breath and remove my sandals.  I'll be damned if that mescaline is not already kickin' in…

We set up Beer Camp.  Our fellas are pros at this keg thing, and we're all chugging from Solo cups by the time the sun sets.  As usual, I've brought my guitar but haven't felt any urge to play it tonight.  Tripping on mesc isn't always conducive to that kinda thing, and I probably should've left it home.  Oh, well.

It's a warm, dark night.  Overcast, so that the whole sky looks white with the moon behind the clouds.  Great, big boom-box is blaring YES (I seen all good people turn their heads each day so sah-tiss-fiiiiied, I'm on my waaaaay)….

We are having ourselves a time, and it honestly feels like no time at all has passed before….

 AMBUSHED!!! - that's right.  THE MAN. 

This was actually insane because, seriously, 5 or 6 cop cars showed up.   And as I said previously, we'd had some minor inconveniences here and there with The Man, but for chrissake.   Suddenly we're in the middle of this radical ROUND-UP at the KEGGER CORRAL or some shit.   I don't know what the story was with that.    My best guess is that one squad car caught wind of us and called in for reinforcements so that they could all come swooping in together.    The whole mess felt really overblown, not to mention quite surreal what with the whole hallucinogenic factor ta boot. 

The pretty hilarious thing is, the cops had to climb thru the hole in the fence we'd made, and walk a good 300 yards in to get to us.  We were partying so hardy that we only knew they were there when they were practically on TOP of us and they all turned their flashlights on at once.   

Couple of our guys closest to the light beams turn around, squinting:

Guy #1 (Confusion):  "Hah? What tha FUCK?"

Guy #2 (Shock and dismay): "AAAAAAAaaaaahh…FUCK ME!  IT'S THE FUCKIN' MAN!"

THE MEN (5 or 6 Mannish voices in stern unison): "DON'T MOVE.  DO NOT MOVE.  HANDS  IN THE AIR.  IN. THE. AIR."  (and other such Mannish directives.)

Now, there were at least 40 of us there that night, probably more.   As soon as all this crap starts going down, I'm immediately cursing myself.   I'd have avoided all this nonsense had I only gone to pee.

There were several lush little groves of trees and bushes sprinkled throughout the golf course, and that's where we ladies would classily and inconspicuously mosey, usually in groups of 3 or 4 for general camaraderie as well as safety's sake.   And I had JUST been invited for a group urination mosey, dammit all, but I had declined - opting to hold it in until the next mosey-train.  (Which typically ran every 20 minutes or so, give or take.)

Like an idiot, I decide to BOLT in the direction of Bladder Relief Grove.  Why?  God knows.  My thinking was not right, to say the least.  I think I actually was grasping at what could have been or something:     No, No…not me, officer….I should be IN THERE…safely PEEING….

But I think I was the only moron attempting to run like that and A MAN was on me like white on rice.  As I spastically slide/run on the uneven, grassy hills  I can see my shadow in front of me, the cop's flashlight trained on my back.  Damned if I didn't hear that cop snickering, too.

It filters to me that he maybe thinks I'm a drug dealer or something, making a reckless break like this, so I stop running and turn to face him.  He grabs my bicep HARD, gives me a shake.

Man: "Where you GOIN', huh?  You got someplace to GO?"

Me: "I'm sorry.  I needed to pee, that's all.   I shouldn't have run."

Man: "No you shouldn't, kiddo.  No you shouldn't.  You can piss in your PANTIES before you run from ME, kiddo."  

Me: "No, that's okay."

He roughly push/tugs me, never letting go of my poor arm.   He yanks me back to the rest of my friends, whom the cops have begun hand-cuffing in pairs. 

Me: "What's going on?  Why are you cuffing us?  Oh, please don't do this..."   I'm supposed to be sleeping over at a friend's house tonight.   And she's not even at this party.

He slaps a pair of cuffs on me: "And here's a boyfriend for ya, doll."

And he cuffs me to Stashley.

TO BE CONTINUED….

A SOLO CUP, SOME MOONLIGHT and THOU

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